


Nineteen

by ForForever19



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Skank Quinn Fabray, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/ForForever19
Summary: Quinn Fabray has eighteen tattoos, and Rachel is on a mission to discover every single one.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 24
Kudos: 318





	Nineteen

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Nineteen**

* * *

Quinn Fabray has eighteen tattoos.

Each with its own importance, spread all over her perfect body and telling a story of a life Rachel wishes she'd talk about that bit more. Rachel is an eager student on a normal day, but learning about Quinn is something to which she would dedicate hours and hours.

Rachel has known her for one month and six days when Quinn casually explains the first tattoo she notices. It's a small one, just the word _worthy_ written in her own handwriting on the inside of her middle finger. It's normally hidden by her forefinger or her gloves in this New York chill, but Rachel catches sight of it when they're meant to be studying, and she can't resist reaching for Quinn's hand to make sure she's not imagining it.

Quinn flinches a little at the sudden touch, and Rachel immediately lets go, instantly apologetic.

"Sorry," she rushes to say. "I should have asked first."

Quinn breathes out. "It's okay," she says. "Just surprised me."

Rachel hums, eyes flicking to Quinn's hand again, and then forces herself to return her attention to the textbook in front of her. She barely reads four words before Quinn is speaking, quiet enough not to disturb the other people in the library.

"It says 'worthy,'" she explains. "I, um, it's the third tattoo I ever got, after I left home, and it's just a reminder to myself, you know, that I'm worthy. Of this life, of happiness and of people who care about me. I'm just worthy, and sometimes I forget."

Rachel feels her heart expand in her chest, because Quinn reveals tiny bits of herself when Rachel least expects it, and every bit is fascinating. They've been 'studying' together long enough for Rachel to realise this girl is special. Hiding herself behind shockingly pink hair and dark clothing, there is someone perfect and broken lurking, and Rachel doesn't have to be attracted to her to stick around and learn all she can.

But, well, she is.

So, so attracted.

Because Quinn is gorgeous in every way, and Rachel holds onto everything she learns like Quinn is another one of her college courses. Cataloguing facts and making endless mental notes, as if she's going to be tested on all the information she retains at a later date.

Rachel has questions. So many of them. But the one she asks is, "you have three tattoos?"

Quinn's mouth spreads into a dangerous smirk. "I have more than three," she says, a little sly, and it's not the first time Rachel has wanted to kiss her. It definitely won't be the last. Because they do this thing where they hang out together, just the two of them, and they pretend they're both not interested in each other.

Rachel's excuse is that she's just left behind an intense high school relationship with a boy she almost pledged her future to, and Quinn has never had an excuse. Rachel can tell Quinn is guarded, wary of Rachel's interest in her, because life hasn't been kind to the girl with the deep hazel eyes and perfect nose.

"How many?" Rachel asks.

Quinn's smirk grows. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

And, yes, Rachel really would, but she thinks the beauty of what they have is the patience that exists between them. Rachel could press for more information, but something tells her allowing Quinn the time to reveal herself at her own pace is the only way she'll actually get to keep her.

That day, though, starts something new between them, because Rachel now goes for casual touches without hesitance. Hands on arms and shoulders, squeezing fingers and knees. Sometimes, Rachel gets the feeling she's socialising a traumatised kitten or, on days when Quinn broods too much, taming a wild animal.

It pays off, though, because Quinn brings her coffee one afternoon while she's composing some melody for a music class in a practice room and explains that she has a bar of music notes tattooed on her ribs.

"On the left side," she says, slipping onto the piano stool beside Rachel and sighing. "My eighth tattoo. When I first arrived in New York and moved into my dorm. I spent two minutes staring at the white walls before I couldn't stand it and went to the closest parlour and asked for the notes."

When Quinn leans back and lifts up her shirt and sweater to reveal the notes, Rachel's brain almost shortcircuits, because that's a lot of skin, and she has the sudden urge to touch.

She doesn't, obviously, but her eyes trace the lines on Quinn's skin, recognising them for what they are.

" _Let It Be_ ," she states, rather than asks.

Quinn drops her clothing, and Rachel suppresses a whimper of protest. "I'm a fan of The Beatles," she says, lifting her hands to settle her fingers on the keys of the piano. She plays the opening verses of _Let It Be_ from memory, and Rachel falls even further into this hole where Quinn claims more and more of her. "But, I also - there were so many things that changed in my life, and I - I panic about a lot of things I can't control." She smiles, a little secretively. "If you can believe it."

"I can," Rachel whispers.

Quinn glances at her. "You can, can't you?"

Rachel keeps her eyes locked on Quinn's. "It reminds you to accept things as they are?"

"It reminds me that music is powerful," Quinn says. "And so am I." She licks her lips. "I listened to it a lot after my emancipation. It was kind of an anthem for me, and when I arrived here and walked into my new life, I felt - I felt close to it, but also too far away. I don't know if that makes sense."

If Rachel's being honest, it doesn't make a lot of sense to her, but she's sure that's not what Quinn wants to hear. "Does that mean you actually have _eight_ tattoos then?"

Quinn grins at her, bumps their shoulders together, but doesn't respond.

Rachel will take it, because every moment with Quinn is beautiful in its own way. She cherishes them, even the ones where Quinn demands silence. When she gets weirdly snappy, and when she's the one to seek her touch.

There's an evening two months after they meet that stays with Rachel in a way she wishes it wouldn't. Quinn is boiling water in her kettle to make tea for them both when she suddenly hisses, and Rachel's head snaps up from where she's searching through Quinn's _Netflix_ for something for them to watch.

"Fucking hell," Quinn grouses, and Rachel realises she's spilt some boiling water on her hand while attempting to pour it into their cups.

"Run it under cold water," Rachel immediately says, getting to her feet and guiding Quinn out of the room and to the closest bathroom. It's empty, thankfully, and Rachel leads her right to a basin and opens the water. She uses her cool fingers to direct Quinn's hand under the stream, and watches as the clear liquid soothes the red skin.

"What happened?" Rachel asks. "You could have seriously hurt yourself."

When Quinn says, "I've been burned before," with that detached voice she sometimes uses, Rachel's breath catches. "This is nothing."

Then, Quinn is taking her hand back and rolling up the sleeve of her right arm. She's in a thick sweater, and the wool shifts easily, to reveal an intricate design over the outside of her forearm. There are leaves and butterflies and small white flowers adorning her skin, and Rachel moves closer to see the beautiful detail.

"It's an acid burn," Quinn says, her voice quiet as their collective gazes rest on the raised skin hidden behind the greens and blues and reds of the artwork. "I was fourteen. I don't remember much more than making my father mad and then intense, blistering pain." She blinks. "It was the first thing I wanted to cover up when I was old enough, but the vine is actually my fourth tattoo, and the butterflies my fifth. I've considered adding more to this area, but there's a part of me that considers it complete."

Rachel, admittedly, is a lot horrified by what she's just been told.

"Do you know Ellie Williams?" Quinn asks. "From _The Last of Us_?"

Rachel vaguely recognises the name, knowing it's at least a video game from her time watching Finn play while they were dating.

"I identified a lot with her," Quinn says when Rachel doesn't respond. "I mean, I still do, but her tattoo inspired this one. It's a game about the apocalypse, basically, but I used to imagine I was immune too, to the horrors of the world. To the ugliness and awfulness. That I could be protected, too. That my life could mean something; that it was important enough that more than just myself would deem it worthy."

" _Quinn_ ," Rachel breathes, her heart breaking.

"I have scars I've hidden," Quinn tells her. "I know you wouldn't judge me for them."

It's the first time they hug. Rachel barely gives Quinn time to reject the offer, before she's wrapping arms around her neck and drawing their bodies close enough that she's sure she can feel Quinn's beating heart against her own chest.

Some time later, Quinn says, "I think our tea must be cold by now," and Rachel lets out a soft chuckle.

" _I'll_ make it, this time," Rachel tells her, reluctantly ending their hug and delighting in the way Quinn's hands linger on her hips before they fall away.

"Think we can watch _Brooklyn Nine Nine_?" Quinn asks, eyes impossibly green.

"Anything you want, Quinn," she says, and she means it.

It's, perhaps, dangerous to feel so devoted to a girl she's just met, but Rachel has never done things halfheartedly. Meeting Quinn felt important at the time, and every moment since has merely continued to prove it. They just seem to fit, somehow.

It's not something Rachel's other friends understand, and she's not willing to explain. She wouldn't even know how. By aesthetics alone, they just don't work, but Rachel has never really cared much about the body.

Though, it does help that Quinn is pleasing to look at.

And, Rachel does look.

In fact, she stares more than she would care to admit, and Quinn catches on far too quickly whenever they meet up. She always looks a little amused, eyes twinkling when she realises Rachel isn't actually focused on the work she's supposed to be doing, but rather on her.

It's during one of those moments that Quinn says, "I didn't always look like this, you know," and Rachel snaps to attention, flushing at the idea she's been caught staring at what was definitely Quinn's lips.

Rachel shifts in her seat.

"Before it all fell apart, I was prim and proper, blonde and poised, and a bitch of the highest order," Quinn continues, a slight kink in her brow at the memory. "I don't think we could have ever been friends, then."

Rachel meets her gaze. "Is that what we are now?" she asks. "Friends?"

Quinn tilts her head to the side just slightly, resembling an adorable pink puppy. "Kind of," she finally says, and Rachel chooses to accept that's a good thing. They're just 'kind of' friends, which means they're possibly more than that.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever met," Rachel finds herself saying, and watches Quinn's expression as it pinches uncomfortably. "But you're more than that."

Quinn regards her closely. "Before I became the Head Bitch, I was - I was horrendous," she says, and Rachel wants to argue, but Quinn just keeps going. "Glasses and braces and baby fat that wouldn't shed. My skin was appalling and I was a miserable, snot-nosed mouth-breather. I hated every part of myself, so I worked so hard to change and fix myself, only to end up hating the person I became even more."

Rachel aches for her in the worst ways. There are moments when all she wants to do is wrap her arms around Quinn and never let go, but she doesn't know how it'll be received. The way Quinn talks, sometimes, worries Rachel, but Quinn is here, and that means something.

"My sister used to tease me about being the ugly duckling of the family," Quinn says after a moment. "It sort of stuck with me, because I learned later that, even if I were ugly on the outside, it was them who were ugly on the inside, which makes all the difference."

Rachel doesn't know Quinn's family, and she's never thought herself capable of such intense hatred, but here she is, and she knows she will forever loathe the people who have hurt this special human being.

"I took some kind of comfort in being a duck, though." Quinn's smile is a little embarrassed. "I researched them quite thoroughly, and I liked the idea of their migrating long distances during the winter months, seeking warmer places. It fascinated me that, when one place was no longer suitable for them, they just moved somewhere else, and I loved that for myself."

"Is that how you ended up here?" Rachel asks.

"Where?" Quinn questions. "With you?"

Rachel doesn't blush. She absolutely does not. "In New York," she clarifies. "Because, my dearest Quinn, if you were looking for somewhere _warmer_ , you picked the wrong place."

Quinn chuckles softly, and then leans forward in her seat. They're sitting opposite each other in the library, so Quinn has already removed her coat and scarf. Rachel thinks nothing of it when Quinn shifts her sweater away from her neckline to reveal her collarbone.

 _Her collarbone is glorious_ , is Rachel's first thought, but then she spies the small drawing below said collarbone. It's a duck, almost cartoonish in design, but it's a duck, and Rachel is convinced it's probably her favourite one yet.

Rachel smiles automatically. "What number is this one?" she asks, and then resists a pout when Quinn puts her collarbone away.

Quinn smiles. "Lucky number thirteen."

Rachel's eyes widen. "You have thirteen tattoos?"

Quinn's smile widens. " _Do I_?"

Rachel can't resist her automatic pull to look over Quinn's body. Most of it is covered, as it usually is, and she can only imagine where all the other tattoos are hidden beneath her clothing. The idea intrigues her in a way that makes her want to take Quinn to her dorm room, undress her slowly, and explore every inch of her delicate skin.

Their relationship isn't sexual, but it is intimate in a way that's new to Rachel. She hasn't experienced the desire to touch and hold and explore this way before. She's never wanted to peel away the layers of another human being to learn every part of them, and it scares her to realise what it means for her.

For them.

Rachel doesn't let herself think about it too much. Quinn is Quinn, and she is an enigma Rachel suspects will take her years to figure out. It might give her a headache if she dedicates too much thinking time to it, so she doesn't. She rather accepts that Quinn will probably remain a mystery she's willing to spend eons trying to solve.

Though, it definitely helps that Quinn is willing to offer her clues. And she gets a rather big one the night before she's scheduled to head home for Thanksgiving. She almost doesn't want to leave, not wanting to spend the holiday without Quinn, and vice versa.

Quinn takes her to dinner, picking her up from her room and presenting her with a small wrapped box and the most perfect smile. Rachel can't stop her blush, or her body from wrapping itself around Quinn in a tight, warm hug.

"You do know people don't exchange gifts on Thanksgiving, right?" Rachel points out when their hug eventually ends.

Quinn just links their arms together, and starts leading them towards their destination. It's not much of a surprise where they're going, because Quinn already mentioned the vegan restaurant she found that she wants to try, and Rachel is all for it.

Not that Quinn is a vegan or anything. In fact, it's during their walk to the restaurant that Quinn shows her the next tattoo on her illustrious list. Number seven, apparently.

Quinn says, "It was kind of a gag one," with a hint of a blush. She's clearly embarrassed, looking almost reluctant to reveal it. Still, Quinn gives Rachel pieces, and this moment is no different. "My best friend dared me to do it, and I did."

It's the first time Quinn has mentioned a best friend, or even anyone from before New York. Even here, Quinn's social circle is small, consisting of Rachel, Quinn's roommate Mercedes, and a trio of boys - Sam, Mike and Matt - with whom she shares a major. Quinn claims she doesn't play well with others, and Rachel believes her.

"Promise you won't laugh," Quinn says as they come to a stop at a streetlight to wait to cross.

"I won't laugh," Rachel declares with a smile.

Quinn huffs out a breath, and then shifts her body to push down the waistband of her dark jeans to reveal a tattoo over her right hip. _Hip_. Like, there's her skin, right there, goosebumps erupting in the cold, and Rachel forces herself to acknowledge the little drawing of - wait a minute.

"It that - " Rachel blinks - "bacon?"

Quinn chuckles nervously, returning her clothing to its original position. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm a massive fan of bacon."

Rachel doesn't even know what to do with that information. "I've literally never seen you eat it," is what her helpful brain offers.

Quinn just tugs on her wrist when it's safe for them to cross, and that's also something new. Before, it used to be Rachel initiating all the physical contact, but Quinn has grown more comfortable with it over the weeks they've allowed themselves to get closer.

Closer.

Rachel won't kid herself into thinking this is an actual date, but it's definitely _something_. Quinn made a point to ensure she knew she would be treating them both, there's an unopened gift sitting in her pocket, and Quinn has this look in her eye that is both new and old, and Rachel dares to dream.

Tattoo reveals are normally moments few and far between, given how much time they actually spend together, so Rachel really doesn't expect that she'll get two in one night.

Let alone three.

Tattoos ten and eleven are on the inside of Quinn's left wrist and forearm, hiding a series of lines cut into her skin, and Rachel doesn't need Quinn to explain what it means that they're there. Quinn is subdued when she reveals the infinity symbol that obscures her scars right near the start of her palm.

Rachel feels tears spring to her eyes, but she doesn't say anything as she reaches across the restaurant's table for Quinn's arm and traces the inked lines with the tips of her fingers. There are also a series of webbed duck feet walking along her soft skin, leading towards the infinity.

"The symbol was the tenth," Quinn says, a little reverent. "At first, I didn't want to cover it up. I wanted to remember how close I came to deeming myself unworthy of my own life, but I eventually decided that wasn't what I wanted. I would always remember what got me to that dark place, but I needed the reminder that there is so much more beyond it." Her eyes are focused on the way Rachel's fingers travel along the lines. "Those came next," she says, referring to the duck feet. "I liked the idea of walking to infinity. Living for forever, in a way."

Rachel walks her fingers along Quinn's skin, reaching the other end of her forearm. "And this?"

It's a tattoo that's oddly out of place, not matching any of the others Quinn has already shown her. As if it's some kind of afterthought, added to fulfil some kind of narrative that wasn't initially part of the plan in relation to the duck feet. It's just a medium-sized circle, black in colour, just the other side of her elbow.

No.

It actually looks like a well. She can see what's supposed to be the brick wall, and it suddenly makes a lot more sense.

"It's the dark place," Quinn says, frowning slightly. "Where I can't help but go, sometimes. I wasn't sure how to... display it, so I decided on something like a well, where you can fall in what's basically a pit and get stuck without any help."

Rachel hums softly. "And, this is... you walk out of - "

"Climb."

"You _climb_ out of it, right into infinity?"

Quinn nods. "It seemed cooler when I first thought of it," she admits, a little sheepishly. "It's - I don't know. It's kind of motivational, but just for me, and that's the most important part, right?"

" _You're_ the most important."

Quinn rolls her eyes, but her smile is a little dopey. "Will you open your present now?"

Rachel doesn't want to let go of Quinn, enjoying being able to touch her a little too much. But, Quinn is looking at her expectantly, so she reluctantly retracts her hands and retrieves the little box from her coat pocket that's hanging off the back of her chair.

She opens it to reveal a key.

To Quinn's shared room.

As sweet as it is, it draws a frown of confusion from Rachel, because she doesn't really understand why Quinn has given her this.

"You keep complaining about Stacey," Quinn points out, referring to Rachel's flighty roommate, who comes and goes as she pleases. "And that you don't see me nearly as much as you'd like to, so I thought - " she stops. "I just - I want you to know you can - my door is almost - "

Rachel just grins at her uncharacteristic fumbling, finding her too adorable for words. "You're going to miss me, aren't you?"

Quinn puffs out a breath, before running a hand through her pink hair. "God," she sighs. "You have no idea."

Rachel thinks she might, because the thought of spending the holiday away from Quinn makes her feel completely out-of-sorts. She sees Quinn every day now, even if they're not studying. They get coffee, have meals together, or watch movies and bitch about their classes.

But, Quinn is such a part of her life now that her trip home leaves her feeling as if something massive is missing. It's Quinn, she knows, but the idea of being this attached to a human being she isn't even actually _attached_ to is just absurd. She never felt this way about her previous boyfriends. She could go days without seeing Finn or Jesse and be fine, but she almost bursts into tears when she passes by Quinn's room to say goodbye for the long weekend.

It doesn't help that Quinn initiates their hug and doesn't let go for three long minutes. Then she says, "I really am going to miss you," and Rachel accepts she never quite stood a chance when it came to this very special girl.

It's what she tells her fathers when they ask after her college life. She's spoken about Quinn a handful of times - okay, probably more than just a handful, but that's neither here nor there - so they're aware of her and what she's grown to mean to Rachel.

They talk a lot, mainly through texts, while Rachel is away, and Quinn even snaps a picture of the pair of white tennis shoes she has on the outside of her left ankle to send to Rachel. She captions it: _this is number fourteen. they were such a part of my hbic armour, and i could never quite let them go._

The first thing through Rachel's mind is that Quinn has a very sexy ankle. Well, she has a sexy everything, but her ankle is the only picture of Quinn she has on her phone, and she makes a mental note to rectify that when she gets back to New York. She's going to take a million pictures of Quinn, regardless of what she says.

She thinks, at this point, Quinn must be used to her. They've fought, of course, because Quinn is sometimes moody and broody, and Rachel acknowledges she can be a bit much, without knowing when to stop. They've argued over who pays for meals, what movies to watch and what the best flavour of popsicles is. Quinn has called Rachel annoying, and Rachel has called her frustrating, and then they fell asleep cuddled together on Quinn's bed and never spoke of it again.

They do that, sometimes. Fall asleep together, and then just never talk about it. It's a recent thing, but Rachel knows herself well enough to know she's getting used to it. To the feel of Quinn's arms holding her, the warmth of her body stretched alongside hers, the strength in her muscles and the comfort of the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Rachel misses her something fierce, and she knows Quinn must be experiencing something of the same when Quinn braves the New York traffic just to be there to fetch her from the airport when she returns to the Big Apple. Quinn hugs her so tightly, she actually squeaks, her feet lifted off the floor as Quinn laughs in her ear and spins her around.

"God, I missed you," Quinn breathes against her skin, and Rachel knows enough about her that those words aren't said easily.

Rachel doesn't want to let go when Quinn sets her down, and she bravely presses her lips to Quinn's cheek and whispers back, "I missed you, too," in the kind of voice that makes them both blush.

The red in her cheeks doesn't dissipate when Quinn takes hold of the handle of her suitcase with one hand, and then hold of one of her hands with the other, before leading the way out. It feels big; monumental in way that there's no going back now. Whatever they're doing, they're _doing_ it, and they're definitely both aware of it.

They go straight to Rachel's room to drop off her luggage, before Quinn drags her to The Met, reminding her that Rachel made a promise before she left for Ohio.

Rachel is all about keeping promises, you see.

Quinn holds her hand for most of the visit, dragging her from room to room, art piece to art piece, and constantly checking in to make sure Rachel isn't bored out of her mind. How could she be, really? Not when Quinn is looking that animated and smiling that widely.

Despite Quinn's love for all things creative, the program in which she's involved as her major is Engineering. It constantly baffles Rachel, but Quinn claims she enjoys Math, and she's trying to keep as many doors open for herself, now that she has to support herself. It's a little heartbreaking that Quinn doesn't see herself being able to pursue her passions and live comfortably, but Rachel admires the head on her shoulders.

And the hair on her head.

That night, after Quinn has exhausted herself at the museum; the two of them find themselves on Quinn's bed watching Quinn's laptop, with Quinn's head in Rachel's lap and Rachel's fingers threading through her pink hair. Quinn is borderline comatose, her eyes closed and her chest practically purring. It's maybe the greatest thing Rachel has ever experienced, and she wishes she could freeze this moment forever.

She wishes it could always be like this. That Quinn could be this peaceful, even when she's awake. That Quinn could enjoy her life without too many worries, and feel comfortable enough to be exactly who she is, regardless of the front she presents.

Quinn shifts in her sleep, pressing her face into Rachel's thigh, and the world stops. With the movement, Quinn's hair also shifts, off the back of her neck, and Rachel sees another tattoo.

It's an intricate flower Rachel recognises as a gardenia, large and detailed, a handful of leaves surrounding it and with its stem extending down beyond the collar of Quinn's shirt. Rachel can just imagine what the rest of her back looks like, and her fingers move without her brain's consent. She moves Quinn's hair further out of the way, and then touches her skin with the tips of her fingers.

Quinn is warm and smooth, perfect in a way that makes Rachel wish for things she wasn't sure she would want again. Not this young, and not with this human being who is so unsuspecting and unexpected. Coming into her life without her permission and claiming her heart.

"Hey," Quinn breathes, her eyes fluttering open as her head turns. "What are you - "

"You're beautiful," Rachel says, the words practically pouring out of her.

Quinn's brow crinkles in confusion at the unexpected words.

"May I kiss you?"

If Quinn weren't fully awake before, she is now, if the sudden widening of her eyes is anything to go on. Her body goes still, stiffening in the worst way, and Rachel starts to take her words back when she feels Quinn's hand on her elbow. Then she nods as an answer, and Rachel feels nervous for the first time. What if Quinn thinks she's a terrible kisser?

Well.

Only one way to find out.

Rachel breathes out slowly, licks her lips and meets Quinn's gaze before she leans down just far enough that closing the distance between their mouths is a decision left to Quinn.

Quinn makes it easily, and they share their first of what Rachel hopes will be many kisses. It's better than she imagined - and she's imagined it plenty - and she hums when Quinn's right hand slides over the back of her neck to draw her closer.

That reminds her.

Rachel reluctantly breaks the kiss. "You have a flower," she says, and Quinn blinks open her eyes.

"Hmm?"

"A flower," Rachel tells her, pressing a chaste kiss to soft lips. "On the back of your neck."

Quinn takes another moment to get over the dazed look on her face, and then smiles. "That's seventeen," she says, resettling her head against Rachel's thigh. "It's a gardenia. I got it just a few weeks ago, and the artist told me he could create more art from the original design, so I went back two weeks later to get my eighteenth." She slowly moves to sit upright and turns her back to face Rachel.

Rachel just watches in fascination as Quinn reaches over her own shoulder, grabs a fistful of her sweatshirt, and then drags it upwards to reveal the expanse of her glorious, amazing back.

The first thing Rachel really registers is that Quinn isn't wearing a bra, but then her eyes take in the detail of the extended stem, leaves and smaller gardenias covering the length of Quinn's spine. It reminds her of the tattoos on Quinn's right forearm, and she moves to touch before she can think too much about it.

"It's beautiful," Rachel finds herself saying, fingers against Quinn's skin. She follows the lines of one of the leaves that looks strangely like a feather, and she wonders if that's yet another allusion to ducks. Her eyes drift a little to the right, where another tattoo sits just over Quinn's shoulder blade. Her hand moves automatically, palm pressing flat against the image of an anchor she finds there. "And, so it this one."

Quinn sighs at her touch. "That's number nine," she confirms, and Rachel receives yet another triple revelation. "I had it done two weeks after I got to New York. I don't know why, but I started to feel as if I was losing myself a little; like I was drifting away from the person I wanted to be, and I spent too many years feeling that way, so I - " she stops and chuckles. "Maybe it's a little lame, but I liked the idea of being grounded in some way. Anchored to my body and soul, regardless of how they appeared to the outside world."

Rachel isn't sure if she's thinking at all when she leans forward and presses her lips to the dark ink, internally delighting in the shiver that runs through Quinn's body. "It's not lame," she reassures her. "I like that you're here to stay, exactly the way you are."

Quinn twists her body around to look at her, sweatshirt dropping down to cover her skin once more. "And that's enough?" she asks, voice barely a whisper.

Rachel smiles, genuine and true. "You have always been enough, Quinn," she says. "Before, and definitely right now."

Quinn returns her smile, looking a little relieved.

"So, you have eighteen, then?" she asks, heart beating steadily in her chest.

Quinn gets this glint in her eye, as if she has a secret - which she probably, definitely, does - and then leans forward to kiss her. It's deep and slow, and Rachel sighs at how good it feels to have her feelings and desire reciprocated by the one person she needed them to be.

It doesn't take long for Rachel to figure Quinn really likes kissing her. Touching her in all these new ways. Quinn is brazen once she's accepted something, and Rachel guesses that she's given Quinn the silent permission to throw out her restraint.

It surprises her, how at ease Quinn is about the fact they've moved forward in their relationship. Quinn is the one who always reaches for her hand first, just when they're walking or sitting together. She kisses the side of Rachel's head a lot, both of them at the perfect height for it. She doesn't shy away when Mercedes teases them after she catches them making out on Quinn's bed, and she just shoots glares at her trio of boys when they joke about how she _finally_ landed the girl.

Rachel wonders how it takes her so long to see the tattoo on the top of Quinn's left foot. They're dating without labels, which means Rachel spends a lot of time in Quinn's room and in Quinn's bed, so she's bound to see other pieces of Quinn's body at some point.

Rachel learned early on that Quinn is never not wearing socks. Her feet are constantly covered, claiming they get too cold in the New York winter, and Rachel finds her crazy patterns and colourful stripes adorable. So, it's something of a miracle to catch Quinn's bare feet, Rachel arriving at her room earlier than decided and catching Quinn while she's still getting dressed after her shower.

Quinn is sitting on the edge of her bed, ready to put on a pair of socks with pineapples on them, when Rachel unlocks and opens the door, and she's pretty sure she falls in love right there and then.

Quinn looks perfect, cheeks a little flushed from the heat of her shower and hair towel-dried and a little wild. She's wearing an NYU hoodie, sleeves pushed up to reveal her strong forearms, and Rachel freezes in the doorway.

"Hey," Quinn says, smiling a little lopsidedly. "You're early."

Rachel's eyes rake over Quinn's body, taking it in and feeling her own cheeks heat up. She lingers in places, but visibly pauses at Quinn's feet.

"Are those - wait, are those pom-poms?"

Quinn immediately looks down as well, and then laughs. "Hah, yeah, they are," she says, rolling her eyes at herself. "They're totally pom-poms."

Rachel closes the door behind her and moves to stand in front of Quinn. "Why do you have pom-poms tattooed on your body?"

Quinn shrugs. "Maybe because I was a cheerleader."

Rachel doesn't know what to do with that information. It's shocking in a way, because she can't quite picture Quinn as what her idea of a cheerleader is. But, with everything Quinn has told her about her teenage years, it makes some kind of sense. Her hands slip into Quinn's hair, fingers smoothing the wild strands.

"Please don't ask if I still have the uniform," Quinn says after a moment, and Rachel laughs. "Because I don't. I left a lot of things behind when I left home."

That's really one thing Quinn hasn't really talked about, and Rachel hasn't felt it her place to ask. Sure, they're in some kind of relationship now, but she doesn't talk about her near-disastrous almost-wedding to her high school boyfriend the same way Quinn doesn't talk about her life at home with her family and what led to the end of that.

"What number is this one then?" Rachel asks, smiling at the way Quinn leans into her touch.

"Hmm?"

"This tattoo," she says. "What number is it?"

"Number twelve," Quinn answers. "I've had a lot of them done just in the past few months, caught between holding onto the pleasant parts of my past and defining this new person I want to be in this new place."

Rachel bends to kiss the top of her head. "It's okay that you're still figuring it out," she says. "We're young. Nobody has it all together at our age."

Quinn tilts her head up, silently asking for a kiss that Rachel immediately gives. It deepens almost instantly, and Rachel debates splitting Quinn's knees to give her space to get closer, before she decides she would rather straddle Quinn's lap instead.

Quinn lets out a startled breath at the action, but recovers quickly and wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, drawing her close enough that their hearts could shake hands. Even hug, maybe.

They haven't done more than intense making out and heavy petting, mainly because they haven't had a stretch of time long enough to give them the kind of privacy for that kind of thing. Quinn jokes a little about checking them into a hotel, just so they wouldn't have to deal with roommates for one night.

Rachel is pretty sure she's going to take her up on her offer very soon.

Rachel shifts forward, rolling her hips, and Quinn's hands drift down to hold her ass, squeezing just enough to draw a moan from Rachel's lips.

Quinn trails kisses along her neck, earning more desperate sounds from her, and Rachel loses her mind a little at the sensation that Quinn is _everywhere_.

Which is why it's so surprising when Quinn asks, "Why are you so interested in my tattoos, anyway?"

Rachel can barely breathe when she registers the words, and she pulls back enough to look into Quinn's eyes. "They are a part of you," she says, panting a little and extremely turned on. "I want to know every part of you."

Quinn licks her lips, eyes dark. "Every part?" she asks, and there is undeniable suggestion in her tone of voice.

Rachel has time to nod just once before Quinn is kissing her again, hands tightening and hips shifting. They have somewhere to be, both of them promising to go to one of Mike's dance competitions, and they really need to stop before they won't be able to.

It's not something Rachel can get used to: just how much Quinn seems to _want_ her in return. Most of her friendships and relationships in high school were ones where Rachel was sure she was just tolerated.

With Quinn, it's different.

Almost as if, now that she's allowed herself to be open with Rachel; there's no going back. She's all in, and Rachel doesn't realise just how right she is with that deduction until they're in the middle of studying for Finals and Quinn hands her a folded sheet of paper across the library table without looking up.

Below a cartoon star with a beaming smile, it reads: _I'm not very good at this, but you've stuck with me thus far, so I must be doing something right. I don't know if you've figured this out yet, but I really like you. Like, a lot. So. Will you be my girlfriend?_

Rachel reads the note another two times before she gets to her feet. Quinn glances up at her, eyes wide and nervous, but Rachel turns to Matt and Mike at the next table over.

"Do you two mind watching our stuff?" she asks, sounding too sweet. "We're just going to grab some coffee."

The boys barely have time to nod, before Rachel is reaching for Quinn's hand and pulling her to her feet. She stumbles a little, her foot getting caught on her chair leg, but then Rachel is leading them, not towards coffee, but rather to the Stacks.

Rachel's heart thumps in her chest at her impulsivity, but she cannot be held responsible for her reaction to Quinn's question. She wants to touch and hold, and kiss and whisper sweet words. She wants privacy, so she leads them right into the darker, less-frequently-visited parts of the library.

She drags them both between a set of shelves, and them practically shoves Quinn against the books.

Quinn gets out a squeak of protest, before Rachel is kissing her as if her life depends on it. It's hot and a little nasty, and her hands are everywhere.

They slip under Quinn's sweater, nails scratching over her warm skin. She decides it's not enough quickly, and then tugs the sweater right up and over Quinn's head, tossing it onto the carpet. Quinn's shirt goes next, Rachel's fingers fumbling with the buttons until they're all undone and the fabric can drop to the floor, leaving her in just a tank top.

Quinn hisses out, "Holy fuck," when Rachel's hands find her skin again. "You could have just said yes."

Rachel chuckles against Quinn's skin, some of the desperation bleeding from her movements. She places soft kisses along Quinn's neck, breathing in her warm scent.

Quinn places her hands on Rachel's shoulders and pushes her back just enough to be able to look at her face. "Is that a yes?" she asks, sounding only a little worried the answer isn't going to be what she wants to hear.

Rachel gently kisses her lips. "It's definitely a yes, Quinn," she assures her. "Were you ever in doubt?"

Quinn shrugs, shoulders lifting and drawing Rachel's attention to her upper arms, where there is ink on display. The burning desire has faded to a simmer, but she still wants Quinn close. She leans in, lips ghosting over the three symbols on the inside of Quinn's bicep.

"Tell me about these," she whispers.

Quinn audibly swallows, and then says, "I got the books first," she explains. "In this area, I mean, but sixth overall." She tilts her head back, resting it against a shelf. "I love reading, you know? Growing up, I found such comfort in other worlds, allowing me to escape the hell that was my own."

Rachel touches the symbol just to the left of the books, smiling softly. "When did you get this one?"

Quinn matches her smile. "That's my sixteenth," she informs her. "I knew I was gay before I moved to New York, but I wasn't comfortable doing anything about it until I was away from the people who knew me and would continue to judge me," she says. "When I got here, I literally had to walk the college campus to know I found a place where I could be open and true."

Rachel glances at Quinn's face, marvelling at the relaxed expression on her face. The small rainbow tattooed on her skin is almost reflected in her eyes.

"During plaza week, this girl just popped up in front of me and pinned that exact rainbow to my lapel and told me the hard, broody look is attractive, but at least pretend to be interested in something." She laughs softly. "Well, I'm not pretending, anymore."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Anymore?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'm so very interested in you," she whispers. "My girlfriend."

Rachel's heart does a thing in her chest, stuttering and stopping and warming at the sound of those words from Quinn's mouth. "Your girlfriend," she echoes, sounding giddy.

"I like the sound of that," Quinn confesses, blushing.

"Me too," Rachel assures her. "I'm literally going to call you that every opportunity I can."

Quinn's hands slide over her shoulders, arms wrapping around her neck and drawing her closer.

"And this one?" Rachel asks of the last symbol, which looks like a coffee cup.

"Number fifteen," she says with a shrug. "I just really like coffee."

Rachel, at least, knows that much. Quinn isn't really fully functional in the mornings until she's consumed her caffeine, which is actually kind of adorable. She's woken to a grumpy Quinn several times, and it makes her laugh more often than not.

"Would you ever get more in this area?" Rachel asks.

"Maybe," Quinn says. "I haven't really thought about it. Why? Did you have something in mind?"

Rachel smiles softly. "Just imagining what a star would look like on your skin," she comments.

Quinn kisses her gently. "But you're already on my skin," she says, and Rachel exaggerates a groan at the cheesiness.

And adorableness.

Quinn bumps her nose against Rachel's. "Please tell me we're not actually doing this for the first time in the library."

Rachel flushes, because she's pretty sure she wanted to get Quinn naked and worship every inch of her right here and now. But, she's thinking more clearly now, and she shakes her head. "For the first time?" she chooses to say.

Quinn laughs. "Oh, baby," she murmurs, nuzzling her again, and Rachel feels her body hum at the sound of the term of endearment. "If you think we're going to go our entire college degrees without having sex in the library at least once, then you're definitely mistaken."

Rachel kisses her again, teeth nibbling at Quinn's bottom lip. "Is that a promise?" she asks.

Quinn nods, a little dazed. "But, um, please can I put my clothes on now?" she says, with a slight whine in her voice. "I promise you can undress me another night."

Rachel exaggerates a sigh, but she eventually steps back. "Is that a promise?" she asks again, and Quinn just grins at her.

Well.

It seems Quinn is also all about keeping her promises.

Rachel learns about the first two tattoos Quinn ever got on the night of her nineteenth birthday. Because they're all still writing Finals when it rolls around, they don't do anything too extravagant. They just go to dinner with a few of their friends, celebrating Rachel's birthday and that they've managed to survive their first semester of college.

Quinn makes a toast, calling her a superstar, and Rachel doesn't need another second to consider if she's fallen in love or not.

After, they go back to Quinn's room to continue studying, and end up having sex instead.

Well, first they have a conversation, because Quinn promised Rachel she could undress her, which she does, and gets the surprise of her life when she unclasps Quinn's bra to find the name _Beth_ tattooed over her heart, letters in Quinn's handwriting.

Rachel freezes where she is, straddling Quinn's hips, and the air gets stuck in her throat. Her eyes zero in on the mark, and she can't quite explain how her stomach bottoms out at the idea that some other woman - someone _else_ \- has been important enough to Quinn to be marked on her body. On her heart.

Quinn settles her hands on Rachel's hips. "I can explain," she says, a little breathless. "I promise it's not what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking, Quinn?" she asks, jaw clenched. "Who is Beth? I would have remembered your ever mentioning her."

Quinn breathes deeply, unbothered by her own nakedness. "She's my - " she starts, and then stops. "I gave birth to her."

Rachel's eyebrows rise, because that's -

She doesn't even know how to respond to that. What is she supposed to say to that bit of information?

Quinn just keeps speaking. "I gave birth to her when I was sixteen," she explains. "My parents kicked me out when they found out I was pregnant, and I made sure to stay gone after I gave her up for adoption." Her gaze drifts to the side. "I brought her into the world, and, just for a few hours, she was mine and everything was perfect. But, I was still in school, homeless and lost in all the worst ways, and I knew I would never be right for her. Not at that time in my life. She deserved better, so I did the one good thing I could for her and gave her to a couple who would be able to give her everything I couldn't."

Rachel can't handle the sight of the tears in Quinn's eyes, and her hands reach down to soothe Quinn, one cupping her cheek and the other gliding over her hair.

"She was the most perfect part of me, but I had to let her go," Quinn says, turning her head into Rachel's touch. "And, I read somewhere that deciding to have children is like making the decision to have your heart walking around outside of your body, and it feels accurate to me. Which is why her name is the first thing I ever had tattooed on my body, in the most prized spot." Quinn uses her left hand to take Rachel's hand from her hair and press her palm over the name. Over her heart. On her breast.

"Maybe, some time, I can tell you more about her," Quinn says. "If you'll still have me."

Rachel almost calls her silly, because doesn't she know that Rachel loves her? Rachel leans down to kiss the tip of Quinn's nose. "I can't wait to hear all about her," she tells Quinn, and she means it.

"It doesn't change the way you see me?" Quinn asks, and Rachel has never seen her so vulnerable. The wall is gone, obliterated between the two of them, and Rachel knows to be so, so careful with her prickly girlfriend.

"It does," Rachel tells her slowly, because it's the truth. Quinn's expression shifts for a moment, falling slightly, but Rachel keeps talking. "It just makes me admire you so much more," she says. "Your strength and perseverance. To know you've made some of the most difficult decisions and faced all these obstacles, but still manage to stand tall and live a life worth living... God, Quinn, you amaze me so much, and I am so glad I get to call you mine."

Quinn studies her face very closely, as if searching for some kind of untruth in her words. When she clearly doesn't find anything, she sighs in relief. And then moves to resume their kisses. If they're kissing, they're not talking, because Rachel thinks they've uncovered enough of Quinn's past for one night.

It's just that, in the process of continuing to undress Quinn, Rachel finds another tattoo she's never seen before. It's on her left thigh, words written vertically, once again in Quinn's handwriting.

Rachel leaves Quinn's squirming beneath her when she pauses to read the words, hand splayed against heated skin as her eyes take in the ink in Quinn's skin.

_"I have discovered with advancing years that few things are entirely black and white, but more often different shades of gray. [These men] are both oaks, even if they were planted in different forests. But then, m'lord, we all suffer in our different ways from being prisoners of birth."_

"Rachel," Quinn breathes, trying to get her attention.

"Where is this from?" Rachel asks, ignoring her.

Quinn groans, body tightly coiled. "It's just a stupid tattoo," she forces out. "Please can you focus on - "

"Quinn," Rachel says, shaking her head. "Tell me where it's from, and I'll give you everything you want."

Quinn glares at her, and then says, "It's from my favourite book," through grit teeth.

Rachel is probably enjoying the torture a little too much, but she is curious about he words, just as she's been curious about every one of Quinn's other tattoos. "What book?" she asks.

Quinn closes her eyes at the way Rachel moves her hand over Quinn's thigh, feeling the muscles tense under her palm. "It's called _Prisoner of Birth_ , by Jeffrey Archer."

"What's it about?"

"Oh, my God," Quinn growls. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Later. Some other time. Can you just - "

"Can I just what?" Rachel asks, all too innocent, and she realises she might have pushed too far the moment the words are out of her mouth.

Quinn reaches for her with lightning-fast hands, and then she's on her back, Quinn hovering over her. "You are so lucky I adore you," she says, settling her body over Rachel's and shaking her head in something like disbelief.

"I know I am," Rachel says right back, and Quinn does the thing and shuts her up with her mouth.

It is probably Rachel's best birthday ever, and it almost makes up for he fact she's leaving Quinn in New York for the entirety of their Winter Break. Quinn won't come home with her, claiming it's far too soon in their relationship to meet the parents. As much as Rachel agrees with her; she hates it.

Quinn, on the other hand, is just amused, as Rachel huffs and stomps around her room as she packs her suitcase for the three weeks she's going to spend at home. Away from Quinn.

"How can you find any of this funny?" Rachel asks her, standing with hands on her hips and glaring at Quinn, who is lying on her bed, hands tucked behind her head and smirk on her lips.

It really doesn't help that she's wearing nothing but one of Rachel's Argyle sweaters, stretched to reach the middle of her thighs. It's distracting and definitely not helping with Rachel's mood. She has to pack because she's leaving in the morning, but Quinn is just lying there, looking delectably on offer and irresistible.

"Quinn," Rachel says. "If you help me pack, we can get to doing other things quicker."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Other things?"

"Sex things."

Quinn laughs, soft and prettily. "Sex things," she repeats. "What makes you think you're getting laid tonight?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Firstly, I'm not going to see you for three weeks, so I expect some kind of sex marathon."

"And secondly?"

"You still won't tell me where you went this afternoon after your last Final," she says, folding her arms across her chest and smiling internally at the way Quinn's eyes drift to her breasts.

"I had an errand to run," Quinn says with a slight shrug.

"But, we were supposed to spend that time together," she points out. "It's our last day together, and now - "

"Baby," Quinn says, sitting upright and cutting her off rather effectively. "We're going to get you packed, and then I'm going to show you just how much I'm going to miss you."

Rachel meets her gaze. "Is that a promise?"

Quinn nods slowly. "It is," she confirms, and then keeps it, because that's what Quinn does. She shows Rachel _exactly_ how much she's going to miss her, thoroughly and repeatedly, until Rachel tells her she needs a break.

Quinn is all too smug when she says, "I thought you wanted a marathon."

Rachel shoves a hand in her face, pushing her away. "Shut up."

Quinn just laughs, as she settles onto her side, back to Rachel and inviting her to be the big spoon. It's a thing Quinn does sometimes, and Rachel accepts that it's something they probably both need in this moment, when facing a lengthy separation.

Only Rachel doesn't shift closer. She rather just studies the planes of Quinn's back, skin a little raw and lined with red scratches that would make Rachel blush if her own body wasn't aching in a similar way. She loves every inch of Quinn's body, having grown so intimately familiar with it in the past few days.

All she wants to do is touch, so she does.

Rachel trails her fingers over the inked lines on Quinn's back, humming softly. She can hear Quinn's steady breathing, but she knows Quinn isn't yet asleep. Rachel thinks she's also too wired to be able to sleep right now, and she can't deny that she has an abundance of lingering arousal that will probably make it difficult to get any rest with a naked Quinn Fabray lying right beside her. "That's eighteen," her mouth says, and Quinn twitches.

"Hmm?"

"Tattoos," Rachel says, her fingers walking their way over Quinn's shoulder and into her hair. "I count eighteen."

Quinn sighs contently, before she shifts onto her back, and then onto her side to face Rachel properly. "Are you sure?" she asks, smiling a little secretively.

"Um, yes?" Rachel says, but it comes out as more of a question. She takes a moment to do another mental catalogue of all the tattoos she's seen and Quinn has told her about. "Definitely eighteen."

Quinn's smile grows a little sly. "What would you do if I told you I may or may not have got another one since you last counted?" she asks, eyes twinkling.

Rachel's eyes widen. "Where?" she squeaks, because she would have seen it. She's just had her hands and mouth all over Quinn's body. She definitely would have seen anything new.

Quinn lifts herself onto one elbow, and uses her other hand to move all her hair to the one side of her head. It's the moment Rachel sees it, small and perfect and a little red still, hidden by hair behind Quinn's ear.

It's a star.

Rachel's breath catches.

"I wanted you to be able to see it," Quinn tells her, voice soft. "And, given the height difference, that shouldn't be a problem, hmm?"

Rachel pinches her arm, and she yelps. "Quinn," she breathes.

Quinn relaxes back into bed, shuffling in close to Rachel and wrapping arms around her. "It's as close to my amygdala as I could get it," she explains, pressing her mouth against Rachel's temple. "It's the part of the brain where emotions are given meaning, and remembered, and so many of my own are attached to you."

Rachel feels tears pool in her eyes, but she won't cry. What she does is something almost worse, because she opens her mouth to ask some kind of question and ends up blurting out, "I love you," instead.

For a moment, Quinn stiffens, and Rachel _panic_ panics. But then Quinn's body relaxes, and she breathes out, pressing a kiss to Rachel's skin. "I love you, too," she says, and there's a certainty in her voice that Rachel worried wouldn't exist when it comes to those three important words. It settles something in her chest, and kickstarts her desire to make this girl hers for forever.

Rachel pulls back slightly and tucks Quinn's hair behind her ear, fingers gently brushing over the newest tattoo. "Is that it, then?" she asks. "No other ones I should know about?"

Quinn's smile is dopey and a little sleepy. "Not yet," she confirms around a yawn.

Rachel can't resist kissing her again, tasting sleep on her lips and wanting nothing more than to hold onto this moment for all of infinity. "Maybe I'll get one next," she murmurs, her eyes closing.

"Oh?" Quinn breathes.

"I have some catching up to do," she says, snuggling into Quinn's body and pressing her face against Quinn's neck. "It's a long way to nineteen."

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
